


Her Lord Father

by MiHnn



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Dysfunctional Family, Family Drama, Gen, Gen Fic, Heartbreak, Preseries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-18
Updated: 2012-06-18
Packaged: 2017-11-08 00:57:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/437379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiHnn/pseuds/MiHnn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, when he's in a good mood, Myrcella's papa will pull her up onto his lap and tell her stories about a beautiful grey-eyed princess in a frozen kingdom, with a crown of blue flowers in her hair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Her Lord Father

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted by lainemontgomery.

She was the princess with golden hair; a beauty like her mother and comely like her father. When she entered rooms, a hush would always follow, words suspended as if they were admiring her, but Myrcella knew, she  _knew_ , what the silence truly meant.    
  
They thought she didn’t know the whispers of the Red Keep. She knew about the whores that frequented her father’s bed and she noticed the secret looks her mother and Uncle Jaime were known to share. She knew that they called her father the Usurper and thought Lannisters were as unforgiving as they were rich.    
  
She didn’t take mind of it all. Those who didn’t understand or truly know their lives would whisper. They didn’t know that every night her mother would brush her hair, that her Uncle Jaime would bring her pretty flowers and Uncle Tyrion would kiss her on her forehead with a witty quip to make her laugh. She loved them all dearly, but it was her father’s visits she looked forward to the most.    
  
She waited for when he wasn’t buried in his cups. For when he was sober, her father would pull her onto his knee and tell her stories of old. He spoke of battles and glory, of men and honour. He told her never to trust a man, and to trust a woman even less. He would brush golden locks away from her face, beam widely and call her his little princess. He would marvel at her heart and ask after her lessons. And when she was good, he would talk about a beautiful princess from a frozen kingdom with blue flowers in her hair and fiery grey eyes.   
  
Myrcella knew her father was not a happy man. His laughter was loud and raucous but his eyes held sadness in their depths. But, when he spoke of her, the woman from his tales, he was truly happy then. And Myrcella was happiest when her father was his happiest.


End file.
